Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Desmond used to be a happy boy with his mother and father. Until his mom passed away and his dad got drunk and married a really creepy woman with two sons. Now he's got a fairy godmother who isn't female, a bunch of friends who are mice, and there's something about a ball and destiny that he'd really rather pass on if he has a choice. Desmond x Connor
1. Chapter 1

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: You are reading utter crack. Serious crack, but crack still. The italicized bits of the Cinderella story are taken from the Brother Grimm version. The main story is a mix of that, the cartoon we are all familiar with, and whatever sounded like it'd fit/be funnier at the time of writing.

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_A rich man's wife became sick, and when she felt that her end was drawing near, she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, "Dear child, remain pious and good, and then our dear God will always protect you, and I will look down on you from heaven and be near you." With this she closed her eyes and died._

_The girl went out to her mother's grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife._

_This wife brought two daughters into the house with her. They were beautiful, with fair faces, but evil and dark hearts. Times soon grew very bad for the poor stepchild._

_"Why should that stupid goose sit in the parlor with us?" they said. "If she wants to eat bread, then she will have to earn it. Out with this kitchen maid!"_

_They took her beautiful clothes away from her, dressed her in an old gray smock, and gave her wooden shoes. "Just look at the proud princess! How decked out she is!" they shouted and laughed as they led her into the kitchen._

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Desmond didn't mind having his fine clothes taken away and replaced. It was a lot of fiddly, scratchy layers that he hated wearing because he could never seem to stop fidgeting with it. Fidgeting that inevitably led to him tearing the fine cloth and getting yelled at by his dad. The plain shirts and pants were a revelation in and of themselves. The boots that didn't pinch or make him trip were unbelievable.

He didn't mind losing his room either. Sure, his room up in the tower is smaller, but his room is _up in a tower_. It didn't get better than that. It isn't like it's drafty or anything either. The manor was built to last and he was just as good there as anywhere else.

He also really didn't mind not being allowed to sit in on the 'family' activities. There was only so much snipping from Juno and drunken ramblings about his dead mom from his dad he could stand to hear. Also, Vidic was one creepy man and Desmond's still trying to figure out how he can be Juno's son. Haytham is better but a boring man when he gets going on something.

It's no big loss, any of it, as far as Desmond is concerned. What he can't stand though are the orders to _work_.

"We have servants," Desmond says as he pokes at the fire place with a tiny shovel, trying to figure out what he's supposed to be doing with any of it. "They're trained to do this, we pay them to do it. What's the point in making me do any of this?"

"Desmond," Haytham says in a long suffering drawl as he looks up from some book with a title he can't read. "Are you going to argue with the woman who turned my _wife_ and _son_ into mice just because I wouldn't wear the _hat_ she told me to wear?"

Connor squeaks from the desk Haytham sits at and Desmond groans, because of course his dad had to get drunk and marry a witch. Ziio sits comfortably in the hollow where Haytham's shoulder and neck meet, and watches with the intelligent eyes that never let Desmond doubt Haytham's stories about Juno.

"But she can't expect me to be _good_ at it," Desmond stubbornly insists. Soot spills out from the fire place and all over his hands despite his best effort to scrape it all into a neat little pile.

"Lord only knows what she expects. That's why I kept the servants on. All you have to do is muck about and look miserable enough to keep her happy," Haytham marks his place in his book and gently plucks Ziio off his shoulder. "Well, as happy as she can ever get. Leave that mess alone and let someone else clean it properly."

Desmond eagerly abandons the hearth and goes up to the desk. Connor immediately climbs onto his hand and up his sleeve to perch uncertainly on his shoulder. Desmond shudders as whiskers and fur tickle him with the movement and can't stop his giggles at it.

Haytham smiles a little and reaches one finger out to Connor as Ziio reaches out to flick at the hand Desmond still has on the desk. "Why don't you two go play in the garden for a while. Roll around in the dirt and pretend to weed if she sees you."

"Ok!" Desmond runs at the chance, but not so fast that Connor tumbles off. He really doesn't mind the way things are now. Sure, he misses his mom, but things could really be so much worse.

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Juno is absolutely terrifying, and Desmond does his best to avoid his stepmother at all costs. Even going so far as to jump out of windows when there's no other escape option. He gets very, very good at climbing. Also, catching Connor, because his friend can't get a good enough grip on his shirt sometimes.

Desmond's trying to figure a way to fix that in the hard packed dirt area next to the stables, and completely fails to notice Juno's gliding form until she's looming over him.

"Desmond," her voice is accented oddly and Desmond cringes when he looks up into her glaring face. Connor curls up against his neck, and Desmond can feel the way his sides move from his rapid breathing despite the vaguely threatening noise he makes at her. "What are you doing out here?"

Desmond swallows and tilts his head down so that he's not looking her straight in the eyes. He hunches his shoulders and doesn't actually have to work very hard to appear miserable. "I'm turning over the rocks so that they get sun on both sides, stepmother."

There are no rocks, but Juno isn't actually someone who bothers with small details like that. Vidic the favored son, if _favored_ was the right word to be used, often complained of how she missed the assassin hiding in the tree for the forest. Or something like that.

"Good," Juno's laugh is cruel and her shadow retreats. "A wretched thing like you should always be doing wretched tasks. When you are done here attend to the kitchen. There's a mess there that needs cleaning."

Desmond shudders and picks at the ground until he's somewhat sure she's gone. Connor stretches up and curls around his ear for a moment. His way of hugging, and Desmond smiles. "Thanks, let's go see what she did to the kitchen though."

The kitchen is a mess. Pots lay everywhere, plates are shattered, and dried food liberally coats every surface. Rauf, the head cook, observes his destroyed kitchen with a critical eye as a bunch of other servants start to set things to right.

"Seriously?" Desmond creeps up to the large man and tries to keep out of everyone's way. The servants accept him as an oddity, but they tend to see him as a bothersome boy who gets in the way far too much. "She knows she's going to be the one who suffers later when dinner sucks, right?"

Rauf sighs and runs a knuckle roughly over his head. The man had been hired by his mother and is the only one left on the payroll from that time. "Not if we do not want to pay. Take this to Lord Haytham, Desmond," Rauf hands over a small bit of paper with tight writing on it. "This," he points to items with check marks next to it, "we need _now_ to prevent the Lady's wrath from surfacing again. The rest can wait a bit longer. Now get along, before the merchants close."

Desmond sighs and goes to do as he's told. He's going to end up tagging along with Haytham and whoever can be spared from cleanup to get these things. A trip out to the smaller market that keeps everyone fed isn't entirely bad, but it means he's going to have to leave Connor behind. People don't react too well to seeing a mouse sitting on someone's shoulder.

"This is going to suck," he mutters and Connor agrees with a sharp sound.

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Haytham's smile is charming and gracious but there's an underlying edge to it that makes the butcher start to sweat a bit. "I understand your intentions, my good sir," butter would not melt in his mouth, and Desmond watches in fascination as the butcher eases back up to the counter with obvious reluctance, "however as I have said, _multiple_ times, I am willing to pay more for smaller cuts. It's regrettable that our larder was ruined so close to dinner, and while your concern for the integrity of our meal is touching, I'm afraid we must make do with what is on hand. Thus the smaller cuts of meat to cook faster. Your cooperation," and Desmond's _never_ heard a word sound like such a threat before, "is very much appreciated. Now, I have a few more shops to see, but I will be back shortly to collect the meat."

They don't actually have any other shops to visit, but Desmond stumbles out after him anyway. The streets aren't as crowded as they normally are when he comes, and there's a few shops that are already closed despite the sun being high in the sky still. He sees Yusuf down the street, darting into a few doors while Rosa does the same on the opposite side. The two bodyguards Haytham employs know Juno's temper and are old hand at fixing her messes before she gets worked up even more over them.

They've got everything Rauf needs after the butcher is done and Haytham strolls down the street. Hands laced behind his back as he casually looks through the displays of the outside stalls, or peers into the windows of the permanent shops. "What even set her off this time?"

"Fruit, I believe," Haytham says and stops at a sweets seller. He nods at the woman behind the small table. She dimples back at them both, her hands already assembling an assortment of the sticky, hard candies into a paper bag. He doesn't elaborate further and it says something that Desmond doesn't need him to. He hands over a few coins and passes the bag to Desmond.

"Thank you," The smell of the candy makes his mouth water when he peers into the bag, but Desmond resists the temptation to eat one now. They're meant for him and Connor to share, and Connor gets upset if Desmond doesn't wait to let him choose which one he wants. Even though he knows his friend doesn't like the lemon flavored sweets and won't eat them at all.

"You are welcome," Haytham wraps a careful hand around Desmond's shoulder and steers him back to the cart they took to the market. He's smiling but it's tired and wistful now. "You're the same age as my son, Desmond. It's nice to see him have a friend even as he is."

Desmond doesn't have anything to say to that, and keeps quiet as he hops up onto the flat of the cart to wait. It's awkward when Haytham unbends enough to get a little emotional. It doesn't happen all that often though. Thankfully.

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Connor chooses an almost black candy and Desmond carefully crushes it into smaller shards with a spoon before taking one of the lemon flavored ones for himself. He puts the rest of the candies into the bottom drawer of his dresser for later. Unconcerned about actual mice, because the upside of having Connor and Ziio in residence is that the animals tend to avoid them at all costs.

The candy is sweet with a little note of sourness that makes his jaw tingle as he drops back down to the floor beside Connor's plate. Connor's fur around his mouth and front paws gets sticky and spiked up fast. Desmond feels a twinge of envy at the fact that he gets to eat a candy the size of his head.

Connor eats fast, but Desmond's done with his candy long before he is. It gives him time to pour some water into a cup that Connor only stares at. "You know it gets worse if you let it dry, and then you've got ants chasing you trying to eat the candy off your fur."

Desmond pointedly doesn't laugh when Connor grudgingly climbs into the cup. The water slicks his fur down, making him look even smaller as he splashes around in it. He looks kind of ridiculous, but teasing him about it will only end with Desmond getting attacked in the middle of the night so he doesn't say a word as Connor comes up shaking. Water droplets flinging all around and his fur fluffing out ridiculously. Desmond yawns and doesn't bother looking for something to dry him with as he picks him up.

Connor will bite his fingers for trying and his small teeth hurt like nothing else when he draws blood. He crawls into the nest of cloth and padding Haytham had brought when Connor ended up falling asleep on Desmond's shoulder one too many times. The cloth soaking up the water as Desmond changes into a long shirt before falling into bed. "Night, Connor."

There's a noise but Desmond can't tell if it's Connor or not before he's asleep.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: Ibid.

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_One day it happened that the father was going to the fair, and he asked his two stepdaughters what he should bring back for them._

_"Beautiful dresses," said the one._

_"Pearls and jewels," said the other._

_"And you, Cinderella," he said, "what do you want?"_

_"Father, break off for me the first twig that brushes against your hat on your way home."_

_So he bought beautiful dresses, pearls, and jewels for his two stepdaughters. On his way home, as he was riding through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked off his hat. Then he broke off the twig and took it with him. Arriving home, he gave his stepdaughters the things that they had asked for, and he gave Cinderella the twig from the hazel bush._

_Cinderella thanked him, went to her mother's grave, and planted the branch on it, and she wept so much that her tears fell upon it and watered it. It grew and became a beautiful tree._

_Cinderella went to this tree three times every day, and beneath it she wept and prayed. A white bird came to the tree every time, and whenever she expressed a wish, the bird would throw down to her what she had wished for._

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"What's this?" Desmond asks as he examines the branch he's been handed.

"You asked for it," his dad says vaguely and he's not even looking at Desmond directly. He's looking a little to the left and about a good two feet down. "First twitch, twi- Branch, and all that."

"Ok," Connor stretches out from his shoulder and Desmond brings it close enough for him to start sniffing it. He recoils with a sharp sneeze. Desmond tilts his head and the branch does smell kind of spicy. Almost overwhelmingly so. Desmond wrinkles his nose and resolves to throw it in the trash heap as soon as possible. "Thanks?"

His dad smiles widely and wanders out of the parlor in a daze. Desmond can't tell anymore whether it's drink or magic that makes him the way he is. He turns to Haytham. "What're the odds that I'm adopted?"

"Low," Haytham says as he picks up the dress that had been presented to him with the same solemnity Desmond's branch had been. It's yellow and frilly, and Desmond has a hard time imagining anyone wanting to wear it at all. "I do think it's highly likely you're someone else's illegitimate son though. All accounts of your mother put her well above his ability to catch on his own merits."

It's a comforting thought despite how depressing it is. Desmond's fifteen going on seventy, and he spends his days wondering when Juno's going to turn him into a mouse too. Or stab him, because that's a thing she apparently does too. He's heard _stories_ about Vidic's daughter that he keeps well away from Juno. It's nice to think he might have a real, normal father out there somewhere while living with this absolute dysfunction.

He doesn't mind Connor, or Haytham and Ziio. He can just do without the rest.

"Give this to one of the servants. See if anything can be done with it," Haytham throws the dress over and Desmond tries not to drown in the folds of it. Connor makes an alarmed noise and Desmond feels his claws digging into the cloth of his shirt as he's jostled. "I'm sure we could always use more rags."

The cloth is soft to the touch and Desmond crumbles it up into a ball that probably ruins it. He glares at the older man who is now examining the box of jewelry that Vidic had been totally disinterested by. Ziio kicks out a strand of pearls and seems more interested in the box than anything else.

It's small and lined with velvet. A perfect bed for Ziio and Connor, which reminds Desmond that the box in his room Connor sleeps in needs a new lining. The old one is tearing up and blue threads have been clinging to Connor's brown fur all day from it.

He fishes a sleeve out of the ball and holds it up. "What do you think? Can you stand the color enough to sleep on it?"

Connor stretches out enough to sniff the cloth doubtfully before snagging it between his front two paws. He examines it critically for a moment and the next noise he makes is somewhat approving. "Awesome, let's go find some scissors."

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Connor likes the new cloth in his nest-bed and the remains of the dress disappear. Desmond doesn't care if they're turned into rags or something else at this point, and all thoughts of dresses leaves his mind completely when he leaves his tower in the morning.

"Holy crap," Desmond gapes up at a towering tree that definitely _wasn't_ there last night when he went to sleep. Connor sneezes hard and shakes his head. Desmond breathes in and it's that same weirdly spicy scent from the branch. The branch he'd tossed into the trash heap last night and now _mysteriously_ isn't there anymore.

"Crap," Desmond says with more dread than awe, because there's no way. No way at all that Juno isn't going to notice this. He walks up to the tree and eyes the thick trunk with apprehension as Connor makes some alarmed noises. "Crap, crap, crap! Do you think we can cut it down before she sees it? Oh, crap I don't want to be stabbed!"

"How about kicked?" A voice says and Desmond jumps back. Connor scrambles a bit before his claws sink into his shirt, pricking his skin a bit.

"I think stabbing is worse?" Desmond says as he looks around, but he doesn't see anyone at all.

"Hmph," there's a grunt and the branches shake drawing his eyes up just as a man jumps down from the tree. He has short, dark hair and eyes that look almost black as he stares Desmond down. "You'd think that, but I can assure you that's not the case at all child."

The man is tall and obviously strong with a glare that looks like it can kill on spite alone, but none of that really registers in Desmond's brain as highly as the familiar awful yellow dress the man has on. More torn and tattered than when he last saw it with a few more scraps missing from the skirt, and most of the lace gone from the bodice. The sleeves are gone, but Desmond doesn't know if that was done before or not. The man's arms would not have fit in them. "What are you _wearing_?"

"What was readily available," the man answers and his eyes narrow dangerously. Desmond abruptly remembers he's dealing with someone who probably has a great deal of magic going by the tree's miraculous growth, and swallows back a whole lot of other things he was going to say. Dealing with Juno has taught Desmond the fine art of shutting up in the face of people with powers he does not have. Mostly. "It was either this or a burlap sack, and I do not have enough self-loathing in me to subject myself to that. It's your fault that I have to wear this anyway. Did no one explain to you what having a fairy godmother entailed, boy?"

"Uh," hysterical laughter bubbles up in his throat but a warning bite from Connor makes him swallow it back down. "What now?"

"Fairy. Godmother," the man says slowly as if Desmond is hard of hearing. His glare turning darker as he stares him down. Daring him silently to laugh. Connor's tail curls around the back of his neck as he presses hard into Desmond's neck. The glare abates, a tiny bit. "You do know what that is, don't you?"

"No," Desmond offers as an answer and relaxes when disbelief breaks some of the rising tension from the man.

"I was bought by your father to _protect_ you," the man says and Desmond isn't sure what's more unbelievable. The claim or the man standing in a torn dress. "Did he not explain anything to you?"

"No, he was pretty drunk at the time actually," Desmond answers honestly.

"Why, because he told you some tale you didn't believe?" The man snaps and there's some scorn in the statement that makes Desmond flinch back a bit before scowling.

"No, because he gave two grown men dresses and jewelry," Desmond replies, because he's _not_ at fault for any of this. "I'd like to pretend he was drunk because any other possibility isn't worth the headache it'd give me."

The man closes his eyes tightly and pinches the bridge of his nose. He mutters some unflattering sounding words in a language Desmond doesn't understand at all before taking a deep breath and opening his eyes again. He points at a raised root from the tree and says, "Sit down."

His stomach curls up tight and he edges back. Talking with the strange man who is obviously steeped in magic is one thing, but he's not sure about getting any closer to him. "Um, I-"

"Sit!" The man snaps the word and the tree itself seems to shake from the shout.

Desmond sits.

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Fairy godmothers ("_One_ word about my gender out of you boy and I'll teach you why being stabbed would be a kindness.") are a kind of fae race with strong magic, an ability to do almost anything, a strong desire to protect their charges, and absolutely no free will of their own. Desmond tacks that last part on himself, because it really doesn't sound like Malik enjoys his life when he explains it to him in curt words.

Apparently there was a whole ritual involved with the branch that he'd never been told about. Where to plant it, what to include with it, what to expect. Basic things that would've been really nice to know before he'd thoughtlessly tossed it away.

"So," Desmond frowns and finishes eating some strange fruit that Malik conjured up when his stomach had growled half way through the explanation that was more rant. Connor noses a pit off the root and sprawls on the space a bit next to him. "If you can grant wishes," Malik snorts and Desmond ignores it, "can you change Connor and Ziio back to human?"

"No," Malik leaves off picking at the dress to stare down at Connor. "Magic has rules, and curses are very particular about following them. I cannot break the curse of another with my own magic. It must be broken with the condition it was placed under."

Desmond sighs but isn't surprised. If anyone could have broken the curse he's sure Haytham would have done it long before now instead of devoting himself to research. "I was afraid of that."

"Oh, and what is the condition to break this curse?" Malik asks with genuine curiosity.

"Juno's death," Desmond says and Connor climbs up his leg before latching onto his shirt. "No one's sure what she is though so it's not likely to happen."

"Wouldn't her children know?" Malik asks because he seems to have some vague idea of the situation, just not the actual details of it.

"Not really, we're all stepkids," more like pets really. Prizes she kept and took from marriage to marriage and plays with as she manipulates things to her heart's content. She has no real goal, according to Haytham, she just likes playing with lives.

Malik hums thoughtfully and rubs a scrap of yellow silk between his fingers. "Well, then, I suppose I'll have to see what I can do about that. Now," Malik's eyes snap back to him, "don't you have other places to be? Preferably far from here."

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No one seems to notice the new large tree and Desmond doesn't question it too much. The answer is most likely magic, and he's just incredibly happy that Juno doesn't notice it. Stabbing still seems worse despite the fact that Malik eventually conjures himself up some heavy metal and leather boots using discarded iron and aprons from the trash heap under his tree.

There's not enough material in one piece enough to replace the dress and Malik can't accept any of the clothing Desmond tries to give him. Something about his terms of service that Desmond doesn't understand.

"It's not the worst thing I've had to wear," Malik says darkly, and Desmond wonders exactly how much those people had learned to regret their decision. Desmond regrets his almost daily and he hadn't even known he was making a decision. "Now did I tell you to stop reading?"

Desmond grimaces and goes back to the very dry history book Malik had produced on his second day. Insisting with a glare Desmond didn't want to challenge that he needed to be educated to find his destiny. Whatever that means. "These people have been dead for ages though. Why do I have to remember them?"

"It'd be respectful for one thing, but you don't have to remember them. Just what they did and the consequences," Malik says with a long suffering sigh that's far off from the sigh he lets out before he starts threatening to smack Desmond's head. "Just read, child, you don't see Connor complaining about his lessons."

Connor crawls across a book silently, going down it paragraph by paragraph before kicking the next page over, and Desmond privately thinks that he's just going through the motions to appease Malik. It's not like Malik can quiz him like he quizzes Desmond to actually see if he's reading any of it. Desmond makes a face when Connor stops to look over at him, and then goes back to reading about treaties that obviously didn't work since he doesn't know any of these countries' by name.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: Ibid.

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_Now it happened that the king proclaimed a festival that was to last three days. All the beautiful young girls in the land were invited, so that his son could select a bride for himself. When the two stepsisters heard that they too had been invited, they were in high spirits._

_They called Cinderella, saying, "Comb our hair for us. Brush our shoes and fasten our buckles. We are going to the festival at the king's castle."_

_Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked to go to the dance with them. She begged her stepmother to allow her to go._

_"You, Cinderella?" she said. "You, all covered with dust and dirt, and you want to go to the festival? You have neither clothes nor shoes, and yet you want to dance!"_

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Desmond drifts awake slowly and reluctantly. His mind is fuzzy and filled with the sensations of a really good dream he doesn't want to let go of. Vague touches and lips that tease, and when Desmond surfaces enough to know he's awake he already has a hand down the loose pants he sleeps in and wrapped around his hard dick.

He buries his head in his pillow and ruts shamelessly into his fist. Coming fast and hard enough to almost put him back to sleep, but the angle of the light from the window is in his eyes now. "Fuck."

He groans as he sits up, wiping the mess on his hand against his pants to wash out later. Connor moves on the dresser, climbing out of the nest he's long ago perfected and Desmond yawns a mumbled morning at him. Embarrassment at his morning problem not even registering anymore. Desmond is nineteen now, and waking up jerking off has been happening to him for at least five years. He has no shame of it anymore.

It also helps that Connor can't really say anything pointed about it though sometimes he looks like he wants to.

Desmond changes and washes off the worst of it with a basin of water. Connor squeaks impatiently once he's fully dressed and Desmond holds his hand out to him. Connor climbs his arm, fast and nimble from practice. He settles on Desmond's shoulder, gripping the thick sting Desmond has taken to threading through the cloth there for better purchase. It nearly eliminates any chance of Connor falling of his shoulder these days.

"You want to see if your parents are up?" Desmond asks as he sets off down the steep stairs of his tower. Connor remains silent and Desmond grins. "Breakfast?"

Connor's squeaks can be shrill and ear piercing when he wants them to be and Desmond winces a little at the sound as he turns away from Malik's tree and towards the kitchen instead. "Don't get mad at me! I tried to get you to eat last night. Not my fault you're so hungry now."

Connor nips at Desmond's ear. A sharp bite of small teeth that stings and makes him hiss. He doesn't bat at Connor when he reaches up to rub the pain away even as he twists and skitters to Desmond's other shoulder. Too relieved to have Connor back to himself to chastise his friend for the bite.

There's good days and bad days with Connor.

Days when the man -Desmond will not, _ever_, think of Ziio and Connor as anything but human beings- seems to grow depressed and despondent. When the limitations of his curse make him still and silent. When no amount of coaxing or teasing from Desmond or even his father can bring him out of it. Even Ziio's presences doesn't faze him much in those moods, and tend to infect her as well much to Haytham and Desmond's concern.

They're thankfully short episodes, and don't occur too frequently. Just enough to make Desmond hate them fiercely.

The kitchen is warm but empty when he enters it, and Desmond sets Connor on the table because they'll both get smacked if Rauf finds any mice on his precious counters. There's a covered basket of food that has a bit more bread and dried fruit than usual in it. Haytham had probably told the cook to make sure to have Connor's favorite foods on hand for the morning.

There's two more small figures next to Connor when Desmond sits down and he grins at them. "Morning, Rebecca, Shaun."

Connor tears ravenously into a dried slice of pear fruit, and the dark black mouse that is Rebecca looks up at Desmond expectantly. He sets some strawberries down for her. A heel of bread goes to the red one that's Shaun, and Desmond is left with some smoked ham and flat bread.

Shaun and Rebecca had come to work for Vidic on something. He's not sure what anymore, just that the man's ever elusive daughter, Lucy, had a big role in it. Desmond had barely had time to get their names before they'd both run afoul of Juno and were cursed. No one's really sure why, but one of the maids swears it was Shaun who started it.

They'd had to get rid of the cats then, because neither Shaun nor Rebecca had trusted anyone in the house enough to care for them at first. It'd taken Desmond, Connor, and Ziio almost a month to coax them out of the hidden pathways in the walls long enough to explain anything.

It's been almost a year since then, and Desmond's only recently gotten them to trust him enough to feed them. He can't really blame them for that though.

There's a sharp tug of the food he's holding and Desmond yelps as the last of his ham and bread fall to the table. Connor pounces on the food he snatched because Desmond was distracted. Putting all four feet on it and staring up at him challengingly. As a tactic for claiming food, it's sadly effective.

"Not cool," Desmond growls as Connor starts eating it with the same speed he ate the fruit. It's nice to see him making up for not eating, but Desmond snatches the bread out from under him. Leaving him just the smoked ham. Connor can't growl, he's in the body of a mouse, but he _tries_. "No way. Your stomach is tiny, Connor. You'll puke everywhere and I don't want to clean that up today."

There's a prick of tiny claws on his other hand and Desmond turns his head enough to watch Rebecca slowly climb up his arm. Shaun stares up at them both in obvious distrust before following. Even slower and Desmond resists the urge to pick them up, because mouse bites hurt and Shaun somehow manages to draw blood every time. Connor moves up his other arm after finishing the ham. Fast and agile, he's in place before Rebecca reaches the grips.

"Malik?" Desmond asks when it feels like Shaun's settled. One of them answers with a sound that he assumes is positive. He doesn't know them very well, and sometimes it's like they speak a different language from Connor and Ziio. "Alright, hang on."

Desmond rises carefully and moves very slowly because he can feel them swaying alarmingly even as Connor is steady on his other shoulder as he walks out the back.

"You are a few rodents away from me giving you a set of pipes," Malik says when Desmond crouches to let Rebecca and Shaun jump down onto a root near the books that never seem to get wet no matter how long they stay out. Shaun immediately goes to an open one that's not in any language Desmond knows.

Malik is propped comfortably in a nook of the tree examining a worn looking sheet with a scowl. Hairy legs crossed and the tattered yellow dress barely covering him anymore. The damaged cloth has slowly degenerated over the years and Desmond is an old hand at keeping his eyes _up_ now. "What's that?"

"Your destiny," Malik says simply and Desmond scoots over enough to get a look at it. The paper is stained and the elaborate loops of letters obscured by an alarming number of bark blots. He can only make out a few fragmented sentences before Malik flips it away from sight. "Stop that, child."

"But, I couldn't even read it!" Desmond protests. His destiny is something the man always goes on about, as if it were a thing he knows, and apparently it is. "How can you know my destiny off of that?"

"It's a consequence of the way you summoned me," Malik rolls the parchment up and it disappears before he can try to snatch it. "It takes some deciphering, but I am not a mere novice at this job. Your destiny will save you, trust me in that."

"Whatever," Desmond grouses. He doesn't need to be saved. Sure, it'd be nice if Juno choked on a seed and died, but his life isn't bad at all. All of Malik's talk about there being something better out there for him kind of make him uneasy.

"Don't you have an appointment to go sit in the fireplace and look miserable?" Malik pointedly asks and Desmond groans because he does.

Connor jumps down because it's never a good idea to remind Juno about the people she's cursed, and Desmond doesn't have to fix a fake look of misery on his face as he trudges back into the house to play with ashes in the fireplace.

.

.

For once, Juno doesn't spend her time lounging in the parlor staring creepily at Desmond as he fumbles his way through cleaning the fireplace. Her creepy intensity as she watches him making the whole thing worse than it should be. She's absorbed instead in a fine looking card that she turns over and over in her hands. Her smile is dreamy in a way that sends a cold shiver up his spine. Haytham is relaxed in his seat, but his eyes don't actually leave Juno at all even as he goes through the motions of reading the other missives that had come with the card. Even Vidic is watching her warily. His books and notes abandoned.

They all know the look of plotting in her too well to trust it.

"We've been invited to a ball," Juno eventually purrs. Amused at the fact as she flips the card again and again. Desmond catches a glint of something on it, gold maybe. "A _royal_ ball."

Haytham goes stiff and Vidic almost flinches. Desmond doesn't really like where this is going at all but keeps his head down. Slowly pushing ashes from one side of the fireplace to the other as he wonders if he can climb up the chimney to get away anymore, or if his last growth spurt has made that impossible now.

"The _king_ is looking for someone to marry his son off to, so that the kingdom may have a queen when he dies," Juno laughs and Desmond stops pushing ashes around, because it's just the four of them in the parlor, and Desmond can't quite figure out when he last saw his father. "Order yourselves new clothing, and dress well. We will all be attending."

Juno rises to her feet and her eyes fall on Desmond. They're cool and thoughtful, "Except for you. You're far too filthy to make a good impression."

Desmond isn't even thinking about the ball or dressing as Juno sweeps from the room. He's not thinking at all, and doesn't even know he's on his feet until Haytham's grabbing him. Arm tight around his chest and throat. Hand firmly clamped around his mouth as he's spun away from the door he'd been going for and slammed onto one of the couches.

Vidic's eyes are cool and distant as he rises. His voice devoid of emotion, "It was always bound to happen. She tires of husbands so quickly. You'll get used to it."

.

.

Desmond remembers his father distantly. The man had never been around much when Mom was alive. Always out trading and making them money. He'd been around more after she died, but only because he had to be and it never took long for him to crawl into a bottle.

He knows his stepmother better than he ever knew his father, and that had never really bothered Desmond before. He'd liked the idea of him not even being his father, and hadn't noticed that it's been almost a month since he last saw the man. Maybe longer because his memories aren't all that great at keeping track of time.

It's all excuses though. Desmond is a horrible son, and his father is dead now.

Ziio presses her face against the side of his nose when he places his head down on the table in Haytham's rooms. Her fur is cool and her tail curls over his wrist. He wonders how long they both knew about this before he did.

It's going to take some time for Haytham to find Connor, and with only Ziio around to see it Desmond lets himself cry.

.

.

"She'll take over the kingdom and run it into ruin," Haytham says later. Ziio sits on his knee and he runs his fingers along her fur, straightening out what was fixed hours earlier. He has pointedly said nothing about Desmond's stiff face since coming back, or addressed what might have happened to his father. "It won't take her long either. She's very good at destroying things for her own amusement."

"The King wouldn't allow her to marry his son though, not when she already has children," Desmond says, Connor's curled up in his hands. Limbs and tail wrapped around as many fingers as he can manage. His dark brown eyes fixed on Desmond's face as he refuses to move despite it probably being uncomfortable for him.

"No one ever _allows_ Juno to do anything," Haytham says with a voice that's as harsh as Vidic's was earlier. "She simply does what she wants and there's no one with the power to stop her."

The bleak words ring in Desmond's ears and he brings his hands up close to his chest. Curling his hands a little more firmly around Connor as he wonders if this is really going to be what the rest of his life is like. Sitting with Connor and his parents while Juno brings ruin and pain down on the world around them.

It suddenly doesn't seem like as much of a good life as he'd thought it to be before.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: Ibid.

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* * *

.

_However, because Cinderella kept asking, the stepmother finally said, "I have scattered a bowl of lentils into the ashes for you. If you can pick them out again in two hours, then you may go with us."_

_The girl went through the back door into the garden, and called out, "You tame pigeons, you turtledoves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help me to gather:_

_"The good ones go into the pot,  
The bad ones go into your crop."_

_Two white pigeons came in through the kitchen window, and then the turtledoves, and finally all the birds beneath the sky came whirring and swarming in, and lit around the ashes. The pigeons nodded their heads and began to pick, pick, pick, pick. And the others also began to pick, pick, pick, pick. They gathered all the good grains into the bowl. Hardly one hour had passed before they were finished, and they all flew out again._

_The girl took the bowl to her stepmother, and was happy, thinking that now she would be allowed to go to the festival with them._

_But the stepmother said, "It's no use. You are not coming with us, for you have no clothes, and you don't know how to dance. We would be ashamed of you." With this she turned her back on Cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters._

_Now that no one else was at home, Cinderella went to her mother's grave beneath the hazel tree, and cried out:_

_"Shake and quiver, little tree,  
Throw gold and silver down to me."_

_Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She quickly put on the dress and went to the festival._

.

.

"I don't _want_ to go to that stupid ball!" Desmond protests for what feels like the hundredth time. Why anyone would think he wants to go to some party to dance while a snooty prince chooses a bride is beyond him.

Malik and Juno seem to think differently for some reason.

Desmond's been confronted by Juno a dozen times -each one nearly lethal as Desmond had to force down a suicidal desire to attack her- about it. She's refused him every time and told him he'd have to complete some impossible task first as she threw bowls of beans everywhere outside. Desmond had let the dry beans sit in the yard and not tried at all to pick them up. Birds came by eventually and ate every single one of them.

Malik has also been riding him hard about going. Bringing it up multiple times a day and planning out loud for it like it's actually going to happen. Desmond had ignored him after the first few rejections didn't seem to get through to him, and just buried himself in the few books Shaun hadn't claimed.

The house is silent now. Juno having just left with Haytham and Vidic for the ball, and Desmond had hoped that would be the last he heard about it all. Right up until Malik drags him outside to where a fine looking carriage stands with two black horses hitched to it.

"I didn't ask what you _wanted_," Malik says with a frown that promises pain if he's not obeyed. "This ball is part of your destiny, Desmond, and you will be attending it."

"Dressed like this?" Desmond twists but doesn't actually get free of Malik's strong grip. He's wearing a soot stained shirt and his most comfortable trousers. His definition of comfort tends to grow with the number of holes a piece of clothing has. "They wouldn't let a servant into the palace dressed like this!"

"Of course not, you idiot," Malik snorts and the arm in his grip starts to tingle. Desmond yelps as dark gold tendrils of light seem to creep from Malik's hand before shooting out to envelop him. "This is important. I wouldn't allow you to appear anywhere looking like a beggar."

"Shit, shit!" Desmond flails as he's released but the light dies and he finds himself dressed in a fine set of clothing. Something that's the very height of fashion at the moment going by what he's seen people walking the streets in. It's tight and itchy in all the ways he remembers detesting, and the shoes are shiny and pinch uncomfortably. He looks like a noble and he feels like an utter idiot. "Malik, no!"

"Yes," Malik states firmly and he's got that familiar rolled parchment in hand again. "This ball is in here Desmond, it's important. Now you can trust me about this and go along with it quietly or I can curse you to attend it unwillingly. Either way you go. I assure you that one of those options is far more enjoyable than the other."

"I hate magic," Desmond growls and stops trying to pull the clothing off. "What am I even supposed to do there anyway?"

"Stop Juno?" Malik suggest wryly and turns back to the carriage as Desmond gapes at him.

"Are you nuts?! The second Juno sees me there she'll kill me!"

"Then I suggest you not be seen," Malik turns back around and he has Connor, Rebecca, and Shaun in hand. The golden light curls up around them and Desmond hears a startled squeak before Malik _throws_ them all up into the air.

"Fuck!" Desmond dives for the small forms and feels fur on his hand before a bright flash of the gold light blinds him. He hits the ground with a groan and strangled shout as something heavy lands on top of him.

"Are you bloody insane?!" Another voice starts up a loud tirade as Desmond blinks the spots clear from his eyes and finds a somewhat familiar face grinning down at him.

"Hey, Desmond," Rebecca says as Shaun starts tearing into Malik. She looks the same as he last remembers her and helps him to his feet before spinning in delight. Shaun's red-faced as he yells at an unimpressed Malik, but Desmond's attention is firmly fixed on the third person standing uncertainly nearby.

"Connor?" Desmond slides up to the man with long dark hair and skin. He looks up, startled, and there's enough of Haytham in his face that Desmond grins widely at his friend. It feels like his grin is going to break his face right in half as he throws his arms around the slightly taller man.

Connor makes a small noise and hugs him back. Desmond can feel a smile stretching across the face that presses into his neck as he says, "Hello, Desmond."

Desmond laughs and pulls away just enough to turn on Malik. "You said you couldn't undo the curse!"

"I can't," Malik answers and that shuts Shaun up fast. Rebecca stops spinning and Desmond feels Connor stiffen behind him. "I can only alter it slightly for a period of time. Six hours to be precise. They will all go back to as they were at midnight tonight."

"I'm sick of being a mouse!" Shaun hisses in protest and Desmond hears the shuddery breath Connor takes behind him. He reaches back blindly and finds one of Connor's hands. Squeezing tight.

"Well then," more magic flies from Malik's hands and wrap around the three of them. Desmond feels the tendrils drift past him in a buzz, and when he looks Connor's wearing the clothing of a servant. Nice and presentable but not very expensive or fashionable. "I suggest you take the time tonight to figure out how best to kill Juno so that you won't have to remain one for long."

"You said _you_ couldn't figure out what she is," Connor frowns and stops examining his jacket.

"I have never claimed to know everything," Malik sounds bored as he crosses his arms. "The good King of this land on the other hand has gained a lot of notoriety for his tales of killing one of each creature in the world. Which you _should_ know from your lessons."

Connor flinches a little and Desmond has to fight back the urge to cry out in victory at it. He _knew_ he wasn't actually reading all the time!

"And seeing as you have two well-versed researchers," Malik inclines his head to Rebecca and Shaun, "it might behoove you to take the time at the ball to, and this is only a suggestion mind you, _get into the King's library and figure that out!_"

One of the horses snorts and shakes its head at the shout that echoes in the yard. Malik makes sure to fix each one of them with a scathing look before pointing at the carriage. "Go!"

They all jump to it, and Desmond slides into the carriage seat with Connor all but pushing him in. Rebecca looks bewildered by her compliance across from him, and Shaun just looks pained.

Malik's voice floats through the door, low like it gets when he's feeling physically pained by the stupidity around him. "You do know this carriage won't drive itself, right?"

"Don't look at me," Shaun says immediately. "I can't even ride one."

Rebecca shrugs, "Yeah, I don't know either."

"I was turned into a mouse when I was _four_," Connor says flatly. "I'm surprised I can walk on two feet."

"I can drive," Desmond offers, because he's really the only one who seems to have had the chance.

The carriage door opens and Malik looks pissed too now. "Are you serious?"

"Yes?" Desmond says when no one else says anything.

Malik groans and rubs his forehead. "Alright then, new plan, because I can now no longer trust any of you idiots to do this properly on your own. Get out of the carriage."

.

.

The servant clothing fits better and is much more comfortable. Desmond relaxes into it as he guides the carriage through the streets toward the palace.

"I knew you weren't reading those stupid books," he says quietly even though it's unlikely they'll be heard over the clop of the horses' hooves.

"I did," Connor protests from next to him. Attention divided equally between the city and Desmond's handling of the horses. He'd actually had to drag Connor away from the animals earlier. "Some of the time."

"Liar," Desmond sings the word out and doesn't miss the way Connor's lips twist up in a pleased grin.

"It's hard to read when you're a mouse," Connor tries a different tactic, and watches as Desmond handles the reins for a bit to get the carriage around a tight corner without flipping the whole thing. "The words are too large to see properly, and it gives me a headache."

"Shaun seems to have handled it fine," Desmond says and leans slightly to the left as they take another corner. It presses him up against Connor because the seat is so small, and when he pulls back Connor follows him.

"Did he really read though?" Connor asks stubbornly. His hands are moving constantly. Running over the cloth of his clothing, brushing against the wood of the seat, and poking at whatever part of Desmond is closest. A constant need to touch and confirm that's as bright as his curiosity.

Connor has had very little opportunity to get out of the house, and it shows. Desmond wishes now he'd maybe talked a bit more about what it was like, but it hadn't honestly occurred to him before. He almost swears to promise to start now, but he'd really much rather just show Connor. Take him out and point out everything he missed knowing, and that's not something he's going to be able to do until Juno is dead.

"There's the palace," Desmond straightens up and schools the smile off of his face. There's a small contingent of guards at the gate who don't move as he drives through. He slows the horses and has half a minute to sort through the chaos before him before he drives the carriage for a small set of stairs, narrowly beating another one there as all the fashionably late people are dropped off.

Connor jumps down before the carriage is even stopped and opens the door as a servant in the colors of the palace runs up to give a hand to Malik. The man doesn't flinch or react at all the sour glare that gets him which is a good sign that whatever glamour Malik's using on himself is working. He'd said something about people seeing what they expect to see and Desmond hadn't felt the need to ask for details.

Desmond works hard to keep the grin off his face as he once again sees the clothing Malik had altered with the same magic he had given the others human form with. The rules governing it -as fussy as any other rule of magic- dictated that he still wore a dress. It was just now a proper ball gown in white and red that looked ridiculous but had Rebecca's stamp of approval. Especially the headpiece she'd called a tiara that looked to be made of real rubies.

("Still not the worst thing I've worn," Malik had admitted before turning a glare on Rebecca as she tried to do something to his hair around the tiara. "I _will_ wrap this thing around your throat.")

Desmond waits for Connor to get back up on the seat before urging the horses on. Following the subtle directions of the palace servants to pull the carriages around the side of the large castle where a series of fields seems to be set up for them all. It's tight, noisy, and not at all pretty but it gets the job done.

"Alright," Shaun says once they've stopped and climbed out. Desmond finishes hitching the two horses to a fence, not bothering to undo any of the complicated buckles attaching them to the carriage. He's not even really sure if they're actual horses or not at this point. They're far too calm and accepting of their position. "Now what?"

There's an area on the far end of where they are where it looks like a majority of the drivers and servants have gathered to wait. "Well," he studies the distance between them and that crowd, the distant door that probably leads into a kitchen area, and the unknown distance between that and a library that none of them actually know the location of.

"No," Malik says and Desmond nearly jumps as high as Shaun as the man just appears beside them. He waves his hand and they're all in a small study. The walls lined with books and a fire already going in the fireplace. "We have _five_ hours. There's no time to waste on sneaking in."

"Then why did we need to drive here in the carriage?" Connor asks with a frown.

"Connor, do you want to become a witch?" Malik asks as Shaun immediately tackles one of the book cases. Rebecca not far behind him.

"No."

"Then don't ask me why each time," Malik waves his hand again and the three of them are on a dark balcony that leads into a bright room filled with voices and music. "If I explained every rule to you, you might as well go out and find a familiar because that's all you'd need to do magic."

"I thought it took decades to learn magic," Desmond moves to look in and notices he's wearing the fancy, uncomfortable clothing again with a grimace.

"It does," Malik says and leaves them to figure that out for themselves as he strides into the ball. Head high and not at all bothered by the looks he's getting. Granted, they're mostly approving and don't seem to actually be looking at him...

"I don't think I like magic much," Connor mutters. "Or this clothing."

Desmond turns around and laughs. Connor's wearing a set of fine clothing of his own and isn't pleased at all by it going from his face. He's fighting with a fluffy cravat, his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and he looks almost exactly like his father in that moment.

"Here, there's a trick to it," Desmond bats Connor's hands away and slips his fingers in between the stiff fabric and Connor's neck. Loosening it just enough that it goes from suffocating to barely tolerable. "The more you struggle with it the worse it gets. You kind of just have to suffer through it."

"Why would anyone want to wear this?" Connor asks, utterly baffled.

"No idea," Desmond grins up at him and a bit of light from inside lights Connor's face up. Desmond tilts his head and looks close because he hasn't had the opportunity to really look at him yet. "Giving all of this up was never a problem for me if you remember."

Connor looks nothing like what Desmond had thought he'd look like the few times he'd tried to imagine him as human. His skin is darker than Desmond's but this close he can make out a faint spatter of freckles high on his cheeks. There's a small scar on Connor's cheek that Desmond can place with a bit of horror that still gives him nightmares. An old alley cat had gotten into the tower one night, and Desmond hadn't even known it was there until it'd pounced on Connor. The wounds had healed, but it's obvious now that the fur had concealed the scars left by its claws.

He's a handsome man, Desmond is surprised to find out, especially when he smiles down at Desmond. A small and sweet smile that curls his lips and lights up his eyes. Until it's Desmond who feels like he needs to loosen his cravat.

"Boys," Malik's voice breaks through the slight daze Desmond has fallen into and he's not sure if he should be grateful or not. "If you're done, we have things to do."

Desmond swallows and steps back, feeling cold all along his front immediately. Had they been standing that close? "Alright, what's the plan, fairy godmother?"

Desmond follows Malik into the ball and shakes himself mentally. There's things to do right now, and time enough for whatever that was later. When Connor's fully human again.

.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: Ibid.

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* * *

.

_Her stepsisters and her stepmother did not recognize her. They thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought it was Cinderella, for they thought that she was sitting at home in the dirt, looking for lentils in the ashes._

_The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. Furthermore, he would dance with no one else. He never let go of her hand, and whenever anyone else came and asked her to dance, he would say, "She is my dance partner."_

_When evening came Cinderella wanted to leave, and the prince tried to escort her, but she ran away from him so quickly that he could not follow her. The prince, however, had set a trap. He had had the entire stairway smeared with pitch. When she ran down the stairs, her left slipper stuck in the pitch. The prince picked it up. It was small and dainty, and of pure gold._

.

.

"You will not be able to do anything to Juno if she succeeds in her bid to enchant the Prince," Malik says as they follow him through the crowd. The people part for him without seeming to notice and Desmond's thankful for that because the further they go in the jumpier Connor gets. He's flinching away from the people crowding around them and it's starting to draw attention. Malik stops near a column and Connor immediately slides around it out of the crowd with obvious relief.

"How are we going to do that though?" Desmond asks, he reaches out to touch Connor's arm and gets a pained look in return, but at least he relaxes. Just a bit. "Connor might be able to get close, but there's no way in hell Juno can see me and not know who I am."

"Must I do everything?" Malik asks and then scowls at Desmond's hopeful look. "No, I am, at most, a _guardian_. I guide and help, I do not do all the work for you."

"I don't see much other option," Connor admits softly. "She recognizes Desmond, and I have not changed too much over the years. She will kill us if she sees either of us."

Malik curses in that strange language of his and turns to glower out at the rest of the room. Food and drink circulate among the guests, and a large area for dancing has been set up next to an orchestra. A raised dais holds three chairs where the King and his Queen preside over the gathering. The third is empty and Desmond doesn't even really know what the Prince looks like.

"I don't suppose there's any merit in just telling the Prince that there's an evil magical creature out to marry him, ruin his kingdom, and then kill him," Desmond muses because it'd be great if they could do that. Simple, straightforward, and completely honest. "Or turn him into a mouse."

"Kill him," Connor says quietly. "She never does anything else but kill her husbands. Sorry, Desmond."

"Yeah, well," Desmond shrugs off the reminder and straightens up to look out over the ballroom again. "Seriously though, can we just tell the truth and not play keep away with Juno?"

"I like that idea."

Desmond hears his neck crack as he turns his head fast at the unfamiliar voice and nearly curses out loud. Two men lurk in the corner near the column. Comfortable in the shadows and Desmond doesn't think it should have been possible to miss seeing them.

Worse than them sneaking up is that the older of the two is wearing what is obviously a uniform of some sort. Desmond's fairly sure it's military too, and not just a fashion statement. The younger one steps forward and smiles coolly at them. An action that looks a lot meaner than it probably should from a faded scar that bisects his lips. It's obvious he's the one that spoke when he opens his mouth again. "Honesty is something that should be encouraged by any means necessary."

Ok, so maybe that smile was _exactly_ as mean as it was supposed to look, because the way the man said the last part of that sentence was a very obvious threat.

"There's an evil, magical creature in this room that wants to marry you, ruin your kingdom, and then kill you," Malik says bluntly, pauses, and then adds, "Your Majesty," after a careful beat of time to make it rather obvious.

_Crap_. Desmond pushes out a hasty bow that probably does nothing given that Malik's full on glaring at the Prince, and Connor's watching them all with a faintly puzzled frown. Desmond hopes like hell that Malik's magic does something to mitigate the very blatant insult, but his hopes are very quickly dashed as the Prince's face darkens.

"You seem to be a magical creature," the Prince says and he ignores Desmond and Connor completely as he narrows his eyes at Malik. Desmond notices that the man is actually looking Malik in the eyes unlike most of the other people they've met. "My good friend here seems to have a very different idea of what you look like than I do _my lady_. Does this mean I should be wary of you as well?"

"Absolutely not," Malik says and scorn drips off his voice. He turns to Desmond and Connor and shakes his head sharply. "Marriage? I'd sooner kill myself."

"And what kind of creature is this, Juno?" The second man that Desmond had forgotten about cuts in as the Prince opens his mouth to say something cutting back. He steps up and places a hand on the Prince's shoulder, and Desmond is a little ashamed to realize he doesn't know either man's name.

"We don't know," Connor answers while Desmond tries to wring something out of his mind, and Malik ignores them all in favor of looking long suffering. "We only know she's strong, ancient, and that no one can stand up to her. We came to try and find out what she is to kill her."

"I am not without my defenses," the Prince dismisses carelessly. His eyes darken to a liquid gold for a moment and Desmond can feel a faint prickle in the air of magic. "I doubt she will find me an easy target."

"She will though," Connor says with a simple but steadfast belief. "She delights in challenges, and some of her favorite targets have been powerful mages. She killed the one known as Al Mualim just because he told her she couldn't."

There's a shocked silence that Desmond feels uncomfortable with as the name seems to mean more to everyone else than it does to him.

"Without knowing _what_ she is, any attack against her is useless, and would only serve to warn her," Malik says, turning back just enough to lay out his assessment to them all. "She's careless and arrogant now, but one failed attack will ruin that. I suspect she has set her eyes on you as much for her own amusement as access to the King's library. It is the only source I can think of that might shed light onto what she is."

"Then we shall have to search for an answer," the older man says and removes his hand from the Prince's shoulder. Dropping it to the sword he wears openly. "I shall-"

"No need, we have people searching already," Malik smirks at the shocked looks that admission gets them.

"Impossible, the wards on the library are ones that I personally-" the Prince's eyes go distant before widening in alarm. "What? How!?"

"As you have said, Prince Altair, I am a creature of magic," Malik grins a little at the outrage that crosses the man's face before the expression is wiped off. "And if I say that my magic is not enough to stand up to Juno, that should tell you something about your own chances of standing against her alone."

"Are we done?" Connor interrupts the flinty stare off that's going on, but he's not look at any of them. He's backing up further behind the column and is reaching out to bring Desmond with him. "Because if we all agree that she's dangerous, I think it's time to start planning how to keep her from the Prince. Now. Before she gets any closer."

Crap. "Crap," Desmond can see her now in between the shifting crowd of people who all but fall over themselves to get out of her way. She's looking around, impatience contorting her face. "Oh, fuck she's going to kill us dead."

Malik curses again, and this is a new record for him. He fixes them with a stern look, "Find your father, Connor. Get him to the library and see how much he's been able to find out about Juno. We're down to three hours now."

"Three hours for what?" Prince Altair asks but he's eying Juno with wariness at least. A look that vanishes and gives way to complete shock when Malik grabs his arm and _yanks_ him out onto the floor. "What are you doing?!"

"Come along, Your Majesty," Malik says grimly and his face is set like he's marching off to war. "I feel like dancing."

.

.

Connor doesn't exactly relax even after Juno focuses in on Malik and his very distracting dance with Prince Altair. Desmond winces as it looks like he stomps hard on the man's toes. Again.

Connor's high tension has as much to do with Juno as the crowd though, and Desmond takes the lead. Pushing them through as quickly and politely as possible. A process helped along by the presence of the military man who is following them closely. "Um," Desmond starts when they get to a relatively clear area. Juno is circling Malik and the Prince and few people are looking at them. "I don't mean to be rude-"

"Who are you?" Connor breaks in for him, because rudeness doesn't faze him at all it seems.

"General William Miles," the man answers with a faint smile that seems a little sad. His eyes flicker between them before going back to the dance floor. "I'm sure we'll have time for proper introductions later though. Do you see who we are looking for yet? I don't like the way that woman is starting to look."

"Yeah, not many people do," Desmond says as he looks around. He spots Vidic in a deep discussion with a few people, but can't see Haytham anywhere.

"There," Connor all but jumps forward, and Desmond follows quickly. "He just left."

Left the ballroom entirely, and Desmond's grateful for that as they enter the relatively deserted hallway outside. Connor turns left without pausing, going down the way that's darker. Desmond hears the general say a few curt words to the guards at the door, but when he looks back the man is alone.

Connor seems to be able to track Haytham somehow despite them not seeing him again. Desmond wonders if that's some holdover from being a mouse for so long or just a Connor thing, because he always seemed to find him at home. No matter where Desmond was.

"He's headed to the King's library," William remarks as they take another corner. Connor's almost flat out running now, and Desmond shouldn't be so surprised that he's fast. William takes another hallway and his voice floats back to them both, "This way, it's shorter."

William's route might have been shorter, but Haytham still gets to the library first. He's standing in front of a plain door that Desmond assumes leads into it, and is turning to face them. His face set in a perfectly pleasant mask and Desmond can almost hear the excuses he already has before his eyes skip from William to Desmond and surprise destroys it. "Desmond? What do you think you're doing here? If you're caught by, by-"

Haytham stutters to a stop as his eyes fix on Connor. Desmond doesn't have the words to describe what happens to his face then. Just that there's surprise, disbelief, and a fierce sort of joy that makes him looks away for a bit. "Connor?"

"Hello, father," Connor smiles and Desmond steps past them to the door. Feeling a little awkward and wanting to give them just a little bit of privacy.

He turns to William who is watching with confusion and curiosity. "Uh, general?" William tears his eyes away and Desmond nods at the door. "There anything I should know about this door before touching it?"

"You don't already know?"

"Uh, no, we didn't actually use it to get in," Desmond shrugs and then steps back at William's wave. The man steps up and does something that he doesn't see. Connor's talking to Haytham in a low, urgent voice, and Haytham is attentive. His eyes narrowed now and determined.

"Gentlemen," William says to get their attentions, the door cracked as he nods to the light spilling out of it. "I do believe a time limit was mentioned."

Rebecca looks relieved when Desmond walks in. Shaun doesn't look like he's looked away from his book at all and barely acknowledges any of them. The number of books piled up on the floor and table is impressive. Desmond bites back the urge to to prod at Connor's denials of reading being possible while a mouse. "Did you find anything?"

"Oh, yes," Shaun says immediately, exchanging one book for another. "A great many things have been found. Why we've discovered three different species of spiders in the past hour alone. You're going to have to be a bit more specific about what we might have found, Desmond."

Desmond can now see why they might have gotten turned into mice in the first place as Rebecca reaches out and smacks his head. "No, we haven't found anything even close to what Juno might be yet."

"Not surprising," Haytham is scanning the discarded books. "You've been looking for a creature native to this plane of existence, and she is most definitely not."

"Lovely!" Shaun slams his book closed, places it carefully on the table, and then throws his hands in the air in frustration. "I do so love wasting my time, why did no one think to ask Haytham earlier?"

"His Highness keeps all writings of creatures not native to this world here," William offers and barely steps out of the way when Shaun and Rebecca pounce. Haytham close behind them as he begins to question William. Connor touches Desmond's wrist and nods to the still open door. Desmond follows before anyone can think about asking either of them to chip in with the reading.

"We'll find it," Desmond grins at Connor when the door clicks shut behind them both. Connor smiles back but there's a touch of uncertainty there. Bits of emotion that he only notices because he's so used to reading what he can from a voiceless mouse. "Hey. We _will_, and you won't have to be a mouse anymore."

Connor nods but the uncertainty doesn't go away and Desmond frowns, because if that wasn't what he was worried about then he doesn't know what else there is. Unless it's something to do with Haytham. Desmond wonders if he _should_ have paid attention earlier. Fifteen years is a long time for them to not have talked.

"I want to," Connor frowns and shifts before stilling. He fixes Desmond with a steady look, determined. "Can I try something?"

"Yeah," Desmond answers immediately. Not thinking about it at all because Connor can do whatever he wants. He's missed out on too much and Desmond is going to be the first person to encourage him to try things. "What do you-"

The press of four fingers along his cheek and one under his chin stop his talking abruptly, and the soft press of a kiss stop his thinking. Connor's lips are warm and surprisingly soft. Desmond's kissed people before. Furtively and never more than once really. Girls whose lips had been a little rough, and a baker's apprentice whose lips had been completely dry. None of them are anything even close to what kissing Connor feels like.

Desmond's mouth tingles a bit when Connor pulls back. Fingers still pressing into his face but looking very pleased with himself as he stares down at Desmond's mouth. "I've wanted to try that for a while."

"Yeah? Kissing, or kissing me?" Desmond asks because that is an important question that needs an answer before he does anything else.

"You," Connor says without any hesitation or uncertainty now. He shifts closer and Desmond can feel the heat of his body through their clothing.

"Oh, good," Desmond gets out before reaching up to pull Connor back down into a firmer kiss. They have some time before anything is found in the books, and Desmond wants to make sure Connor gets the chance to try kissing as fully as possible.

.

.

Desmond doesn't think his face will ever not be red again. Haytham has an unparalleled ability to say things with a single raised eyebrow that is actually worse than the man's normally sharp tongue. Having him step out and finding them doing their level best to learn the fine art of sharing air so they didn't have to stop kissing is high in Desmond's list of things he doesn't ever want to repeat again. The catty remarks from Shaun and Rebecca as they left Haytham and William to return to the carriage don't actually help either.

The fact that he can still feel the press of Connor's mouth against his, and the slick press of his tongue as they wait for Malik makes it worth it though.

"Not a word," Malik growls as he rushes by them and all but jumps into the carriage. Desmond blinks at Connor who frowns back at him. Malik leans back out and it's _very_ clear from the state of his neck and clothing that dancing hadn't been the only thing Malik got up to after they left him. Desmond immediately feels better about being caught kissing Connor now. "Half an hour, boys, unless you'd like to walk all the way back I suggest you start driving now."

He can hear Rebecca laughing as he climbs up into the seat, and Malik's sharp retort. It all gets drowned out when the horses lurch into motion though. Once past the gates he urges the horses faster, wanting to get home as soon as possible. Connor presses close against him and Desmond gives his hand up easily when Connor reaches for it. They have a name for Juno now, and a way to kill her. "It'll be over soon," Desmond says with confidence because there's too many people who know now, and Juno has no chance.

.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: Ibid.

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* * *

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_The next morning, he went with it to the man, and said to him, "No one shall be my wife except for the one whose foot fits this golden shoe."_

_The two sisters were happy to hear this, for they had pretty feet. With her mother standing by, the older one took the shoe into her bedroom to try it on. She could not get her big toe into it, for the shoe was too small for her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said, "Cut off your toe. When you are queen you will no longer have to go on foot."_

_The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. However, they had to ride past the grave, and there, on the hazel tree, sat the two pigeons, crying out:_

_Rook di goo, rook di goo!_  
There's blood in the shoe.  
The shoe is too tight,  
This bride is not right!

_Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was running from it. He turned his horse around and took the false bride home again, saying that she was not the right one, and that the other sister should try on the shoe. _

_She went into her bedroom, and got her toes into the shoe all right, but her heel was too large. Then her mother gave her a knife, and said, "Cut a piece off your heel. When you are queen you will no longer have to go on foot."_

_The girl cut a piece off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. When they passed the hazel tree, the two pigeons were sitting in it, and they cried out:_

_Rook di goo, rook di goo!_  
There's blood in the shoe.  
The shoe is too tight,  
This bride is not right!

_He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking all red. Then he turned his horse around and took the false bride home again. "This is not the right one, either," he said. "Don't you have another daughter?"_

.

.

Desmond wakes up alone in his bed with only the fading remnants of a vivid dream. A dream of Connor's lips and hands that has him moaning into his pillow as he jerks off hard and fast. Recalling the feel of Connor pressing him into the wall last night. He comes with a shudder and lays still for a moment to catch his breath before slowly sitting up. Connor is perched on the lip of the dresser. Tail flicking slightly and eyes fixed intently on Desmond. Desmond now has a human face to associate with that look. It's the same look that had been on Connor's face when he looked at him as they crept through the palace halls behind everyone else and he flushes as his dick twitches at the memory.

He cleans himself off and dresses as usual. Connor barely waits for his shirt to come down before jumping the gap between them and climbing up. He presses hard against Desmond's neck, face close to Desmond's mouth, and he's never really needed to speak for Desmond to understand him. "Yeah, me too."

Desmond reaches up and cups his hand around Connor. He can't wait for this curse to be broken. He's always been grateful to have Connor, but now that he's known him as human it isn't enough anymore.

.

.

Haytham seems torn between staring at the tree and Malik who is now back in his torn yellow dress. He blinks a lot as Desmond drops Rebecca and Shaun down next to Ziio. Connor refuses to move though and Desmond slumps down onto one of the free roots as Malik fixes a narrow eyed look on Haytham. He's waiting for the older man to make the first move, itching to let loose the vitriol he saves up for stupid remarks.

To his credit, Haytham doesn't say anything he's obviously thinking. "Lightning then. Not something we can easily get hold of naturally, but somehow I don't think that is going to be a problem for us."

"No, it won't," Malik's smirk is smug and he flips his hand, a thin parchment flutters from the air to settle on his palm. Desmond can see the beginnings of a royal proclamation written on it before Haytham takes the thing. Frowning incredulously as he reads it. "Overly dramatic, I know, but I was not the one who came up with the asinine plan."

"Gold supposedly attracts lightning," Haytham muses. "I assume that the Prince is not pleased with the ensnarement attempt by Juno. Her failure last night will make her more open to accepting this ruse. That should make this easier. How will you get into the house unseen though?" Haytham eyes the tattered yellow dress doubtfully.

"I won't," Malik leans back against the tree and crosses his arms over his chest. There's a large rip in the top that wasn't there last night, and the whole thing is barely holding onto his shoulders anymore. He gives off the air of a man who is too comfortable to bother moving ever again. "My role in this whole thing is done."

"The Prince can do magic," Desmond puts in before Haytham can lose it. Out of all of them Haytham has the most to gain from Juno's death, and is probably the one most impatient to see the deed done. Desmond hasn't had the time to question Malik about last night yet, and he's going out on a branch with his assumptions but Malik doesn't correct him. "He'll be able to get close enough to finish this."

"Without Juno sinking her fingers into his mind?" Haytham asks pointedly.

Desmond looks at Malik who still looks unconcerned, and actually snorts. "Of course. The magic I used last night to keep him clear of her claws will linger for a day yet. As long as that idiot finishes it all today there will be no problem. There might be a problem though," Malik inclines his head to the building and Desmond hears the faint sound of something shattering, "if she isn't informed she'll have a chance to gain the Prince again if she just waits."

Haytham sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before nodding at them all before turning away. "This had best work."

.

.

Juno manages quite a bit of damage before the proclamation that the Prince will be visiting each home looking for his 'mysterious' dance partner calms her. She settles into the parlor to examine the paper Haytham gave up and plot. Desmond watches the clean-up efforts from the second floor that he rarely goes into anymore. Juno has claimed it and few people actually come up here anymore. Haytham took a suite of rooms on the first floor, and Vidic had taken the cellar. Whether he actually slept down there with his alchemical experiments or had a place elsewhere is something he has never figured out. Or really cared enough to figure out.

Connor winds between his fingers and around his wrists. Restless with the waiting and Desmond can't blame him. They're so close to ending this that he wants to _do_ something. Wants to get it done faster, but all they can do is wait for Prince Altair. Everything is on him now, and it makes Desmond itch a bit because he really doesn't know the man at all. Just that he's arrogant, a mage, and apparently likes to bite.

A combination of facts he really doesn't want to know.

It's a long wait for noon to crawl by. Desmond sets Connor down in a potted plant near the parlor door. He'd started biting when Desmond tried to take him back out to Malik and the others. He crawls reluctantly down and Desmond rubs his thumb under his chin, "I know, but you know what will happen if she sees you. Just wait here. You'll know when it's over."

Connor makes a distressed noise and Desmond forces himself to stand. He has to play at being miserable for just a bit longer.

.

.

Desmond carefully moves ashes around in the fireplace. Uncomfortably aware of Juno as she lounges in a chair. Vidic leans in a corner with an irritated expression on his face at being called away from his labs. Haytham sits in a stiff-backed chair between them, nothing showing on his face other than slight boredom. He's had most of his life to practice and perfect that mask that Desmond really wishes he had one too. He doesn't dare look at Juno, afraid she'll read everything plastered all over his face.

"Mistress," one of the maids that Desmond has never figured out the name of slips in. She came with Juno and keeps staunchly to herself despite any attempt by the other servants to get her to talk. "Your suitor and his man is here."

Desmond swallows hard and keeps pushing the ashes around, though he's listening intently to everything that's being said.

"Show them in," Juno commands and fails to rise when Prince Altair comes in, William close on his heels. The older man holds a pillow with a ridiculously ornate shoe on it. Gold and impractical looking. Desmond almost wonders how anyone could think someone would wear it, but Juno's thought process rarely makes sense to begin with. "You have something for me to try then?"

Altair doesn't show any sign of minding the blatant disrespect of Juno outside of the way his eyes are hard and intent. More gold than brown as he smiles charmingly. "A shoe, if you'd allow us Lady Juno."

"If I must," Juno allows and gestures for it to be brought closer. She's playing along and Desmond finds himself holding his breath as Altair himself takes the shoe and kneels to place it on her. It's easy, too easy and something is going to go wrong. He just knows it, because easy things just don't happen.

Except it seems like it does, because the shoe slips on easily and Juno's smiling while Altair's eyes _flare_. Desmond smells the scent of rain before blinding light fills the room and knocks him almost senseless. The light robbing him of sight, sound, and almost all feeling except for a dull pain.

"Ow," Desmond groans as he rolls out of the fireplace he was knocked into when his sense return. Spots still dance in his eyes from the light show and his head rings as he looks around the room.

Vidic is using the wall to hold himself up and looks as stunned as Haytham who is on his feet. William shakes his head hard, rubbing one ear as he blinks. Altair looks calm and detached as he brushes some ashes from his hands. The seat Juno had been in is a smoking ruin and there's no sign of Juno at all.

"Did it work?" He asks and his voice sounds distant to his ears. "Is she really dead?"

"Yes," Altair sounds extremely confident and he turns to address William. "The only way to know for sure is to see if the curse was broken on the others."

William is out of the room in an instant, and Desmond finds himself pinned with a look that's still more gold than he's comfortable with. "And where is your guardian, Desmond?"

"Um, out back?" Desmond says and tries very hard not to wonder why Altair wants to know.

"Ziio," Haytham doesn't shout but his voice cuts right through the ringing in Desmond's ears. He looks up and realizes that as much as Connor's face structure resembles his dad, he really takes after his mother. He sees Rebecca and Shaun lurking in the doorway behind her. Both glaring daggers at Vidic.

"Desmond," Connor's there and pressing a hand to his face. Desmond hisses as the touch is painful, and his face throbs. He brings his own hand up over Connor's and feels the slick slide of blood. "Let's go."

They slip out of the room unnoticed.

.

.

"It's not so bad," Malik's touch is softer than his words and Desmond feels the familiar tingle of his magic. The pain fades and when he reaches up the skin is whole again. Indented and a little smoother. "There. Good enough."

Malik leans back against his tree and Desmond blinks as a leaf falls between them. He looks up because in all the years that he has known Malik his tree has never lost a single leaf or branch. Now he watches as the vivid green of the leaves seems to drain, leaving behind dry and dead ones. "Malik, what's happening?"

"His service is finished," Connor says and his arm comes around Desmond's shoulder as he looks up with him at the falling leaves.

"Exactly," Malik says with a small smile, a hint of sadness touching it. "Your destiny has been fulfilled, Desmond, and my time as your fairy godmother is over."

"But what if I want to talk to you again?" Desmond doesn't like the fact that he forgot about the nature of Malik's presence in his life. Not entirely willing, and apparently limited. "

"About what?" Malik laughs, sharp and mocking as the branches droop and cracks begin to appear in the trunk. "The mistakes in your penmanship?" Malik reaches out and raps his fist lightly against his head before turning and doing the same to Connor. "You idiots will be fine. Don't get overly sentimental on me."

The tree cracks loudly and Malik is gone. There's no fading or slowly going away. He's just gone in the blink of an eye, and Desmond feels terrible. A lump forms in his throat and he scowls to keep it from rising up further. "Fuck!"

Connor moves forward and reaches down. He comes up with a branch that still has vivid green leaves on it. It smells almost overwhelmingly of a familiar mix of spices Desmond has never been able to identify. "It's not fair," Desmond says as he takes it. He doesn't think that trying to plant it again will work to bring Malik back.

"No," Connor agrees and he looks beyond him back to the house. Desmond turns and sees that Prince Altair is striding across the yard, William following more slowly. "But maybe we can fix that."

"Huh, he'll kill us for it," Desmond says but when Altair nears he hands over the branch. The Prince's brows furrow as he stares at it and Desmond smiles. "So, how much do you know about fairy godmothers, Your Highness?"

It'll be worth it, Desmond thinks.

.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Cliche Endings Need Not Apply (except for that one)**

**A Word**: And here endith the crack fic. There may be another short from Altair's POV. Not sure yet.

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* * *

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_"No," said the man. "There is only a deformed little Cinderella from my first wife, but she cannot possibly be the bride."_

_The prince told him to send her to him, but the mother answered, "Oh, no, she is much too dirty. She cannot be seen."_

_But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the prince, who gave her the golden shoe. She sat down on a stool, pulled her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, and it fitted her perfectly._

_When she stood up the prince looked into her face, and he recognized the beautiful girl who had danced with him. He cried out, "She is my true bride."_

_The stepmother and the two sisters were horrified and turned pale with anger. The prince, however, took Cinderella onto his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel tree, the two white pigeons cried out:_

_Rook di goo, rook di goo!_  
No blood's in the shoe.  
The shoe's not too tight,  
This bride is right!

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.

Desmond wakes up overly hot from Connor wrapped tightly around him and a hand shoved down into his pants. It's not his own hand. "Ah," Desmond chokes as Connor's hand moves. Fingers curling inexpertly around him, and an answering hardness grinding against his back.

"Morning," Connor's voice is rough and hoarse in the best way possible and Desmond is waking up like this every morning for the rest of his life. Maybe even beyond that too. Soft lips press to his neck before Connor nips at the skin. A sharp press of teeth that makes Desmond push harder into his hand and moan.

"Fuck, Connor!" It's awkward but Desmond manages to twist an arm back and shove it between them. He can't get a good grip on Connor because the man refuses to move far enough away, but he can sort of cup his hand around his covered dick. Connor appreciates it immensely going by his hitched breathing. "Yeah, just-"

Connor growls and the sound is a lot better now than any time he'd tried it before. He grinds into Desmond's hand and moans brokenly before coming, soaking the pants he still insists on borrowing from Desmond despite the fact they're far too small for him. Not that Desmond will ever complain about that. Desmond groans as Connor shivers against him and thrust forward against his now lax hand helplessly. "Connor!"

His hand moves and tightens fast. Connor's breathing unevenly against his neck and his voice is absolutely wrecked as he says, "Now, do it now, Desmond."

Desmond makes some really high pitched noises as he comes that he'll be embarrassed about later. Later when Connor isn't kissing his neck and coaxing every single one out of him.

"I like the way you sound in the morning," Connor murmurs when they're both spent and lazing in the bed as the sun rises. They have no place to be and nothing to do until afternoon. "I always have."

"Nnh," Desmond doesn't think he's going to ever get over how easily Connor seems to overload his brain with only a few words. A fact that he's caught onto very quickly and exploits ruthlessly when he feels like it. "You like the way I sound all the time."

"True," he grins at Connor's soft laugh. "Hungry?"

"Not yet," Desmond denies even as his stomach tries to rumble, because he doesn't want to move just yet. Connor hums in agreement and they don't move again for a while.

.

.

Ziio catches Desmond before he can slip out the door and he bites back a groan as she rubs at his cheek with one cool finger. Her finger is blackened when she pulls away. A faint smile pulls her lips up but he can tell she's laughing by the way her eyes dance. "You know you don't need to play with ashes anymore, Desmond."

"I know," Desmond tries not to flush in embarrassment but doesn't think he's very successful going by her growing smile. "It's habit! I can't help it anymore."

Ziio's laugh fills the hall and Desmond feels some of the tension he'd picked up drain out of him at it. He bends when she pulls and accepts the kiss she presses to his forehead. A beat longer than normal, and he knows that means Connor somehow managed to get out of the house without seeing her first. "Go deal with yours. I will handle mine."

Connor is waiting down the street for him. A thunderous expression on his face that's frightening some of the people walking by, making them go faster than they normally would. Desmond leans against a half wall next to him. "Hey, you took off pretty fast."

Desmond should be surprised at the way Connor and Haytham seem to be butting heads every few minutes. It doesn't though, because Connor's got this thing going where if he doesn't like something he speaks up about it immediately. Voicing his disagreement and Haytham is very used to people _not_ disagreeing with him. It's a conflict that makes the two men frosty and prone to sniping at each other.

Ziio thinks it will settle eventually, that it would have happened far earlier without the curse. Desmond kinda hopes she's right because neither Connor nor Haytham like the arguments, and always get a little depressed over them when separated.

"I just," Connor stops and breathes out a frustrated breath, the anger leaving him in an instant. He looks sheepish when he looks down to Desmond again. "I think it was easier for us to get along when I was a mouse."

It was, and that's as much Haytham's fault as Connor's. "Probably, but you know he doesn't want you to be cursed again, right? He's your dad and he loves you."

"He's my dad and he's pigheaded," Connor mutters but his shoulders are relaxing a bit more and he's smiling just a bit. He rolls his shoulders and seems to shove aside the rest of his frustration with ease. "Doesn't matter. We will be late if we stand around here talking about it."

"Being late is worse than death," Desmond says as he pushes off from the wall and he's only partially joking.

.

.

Connor and Desmond don't get a second glance going through the smaller side gate at the palace anymore. They've become known faces and their visits don't even need to be scheduled anymore to ensure they aren't tossed out. They stick to the schedule though purely for the fact that neither of them wants to walk in on things they will regret seeing.

Malik is wearing a fine set of clothing that actually fits him. Trousers, shirt, coat, and boots. It's still a shock at times to see him in that and not some dress, but Desmond knows he'll get over that soon enough. He'd been mildly impressed that Altair hadn't ordered some frilly dress for Malik to wear when he planted the tree. The man seems to love irritating Malik for no reason at all.

"Are you still playing with ashes?" Malik asks incredulously when Desmond slumps down on a raised root of his tree. It's been planted in a far corner of the royal garden and looks like it's been there for ages. "Go wash your hands, Desmond. You're not touching any of these books until you do."

Desmond considers not washing them, but Malik is not above tossing him into the fountain if he needs to. He sighs and pulls himself back up to go to where the clear water runs through a pipe.

"Math?" Connor's voice rises from behind him. Dubious and filled with dread, and Desmond smirks because Connor's had a lot of ground to catch back up to now that Malik can properly quiz him.

Desmond lets his hands drip a bit and looks around at the garden. It's peaceful with the familiar scent of Malik's tree winding through the blooming flowers. He'll go and sit next to Connor as Malik tries to beat some numbers into their heads. Maybe physically if he feels like it will do them any good.

In a few hours, Altair will come out and distract Malik long enough for Connor and Desmond to sneak away. They might even run into William when they walk around. The old general has taken to showing them around and talking about a lot of things. Everything but the one thing that he seems to be keeping back. Desmond's kind of curious to find out what the man is itching to say, but it's funnier watching him struggle with it.

All in all, Desmond's pretty content with his life. Things could be worse and he's happy with what he has now.

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End file.
